Race Me
by katz7777777
Summary: A story in which Keith has more trophies than any other racer in his league, Lance hasn't raced professionally a day in his life, and everyone somehow expects them to magically work together. "I think you meant 'fight me', not 'race me'," Pidge says, not even looking up from their laptop at the two bickering drivers. It was going to be a long season.
1. First Gear

**I'm not gonna lie, I saw an amazing piece by marmorakeith on tumblr of Keith in a jacket that screamed racer to me and I died. I needed a Keith racer au, which turned into an entire voltron klance formula one story, for which I'm not even sorry :) I've kinda set the chapter length to be around 2k words, but because of that there's gonna be so many chapters lol, I guess I'm in this for the long haul!**

* * *

Keith flexed his fingers against the steering wheel, readjusting his grip. The car thrummed with power beneath him, lurching a little when he pulled his foot just slightly off the brakes, the engine growling for release. Keith slowly pulled forward to the painted white line, checking over his controls one last time before releasing a shaky breath, feeling the adrenaline flood his veins.

He was ready.

* * *

Lance slowed to a stop, sliding in just behind the white line on the tarmac, shifting into a lower gear as he stared at the empty lanes ahead of him. His car purred as he pressed against the brakes, ready to go whenever he was, and Lance stroked his hand over the steering wheel.

Let's do this girl.

Lance smiled as he regripped the wheel, feeling himself shake a little in excitement, and started the countdown.

He was ready.

* * *

 **3.**

 **2.**

 **1.**

* * *

Keith slammed on the gas, foot nearly touching the ground as he slowly released the clutch, car gearing up as he tore away from the starting line. The engines of the cars around him roared, but Keith was only focused on the track ahead of him, the racers in his rearview slipping away as he took the lead.

He braced himself against the seat and whipped the car around the first turn, slipping further away from the other cars on his tail, solidifying his place at the front of the pack by nearly an entire second.

Keith heard a familiar 'whoop' through his headset and couldn't help a smile from spreading across his face.

He was going to win.

* * *

Lance let his tail end slide around behind him, dropping the clutch and pulling the handbrake as he drifted around the first bend, unlocking the brake as he floored it on the straightaway. He hung close to the metal guard on his right, already jostling the gear shift down in preparation for the next curve in the road.

He slammed on the clutch, slingshot around the first bend to the left, before cranking the wheel hard right to slip around the second turn.

Lance's 'whoop' of joy was met with a chuckle from his headset, and he couldn't help but grin.

He could do it.

* * *

Keith started inching in on the turn entrances, no long holding to the outsides like his competitors, cutting off anyone even remotely close from overtaking him. He could feel the g-force fighting against the traction of the wheels, the newly designed rubber the only thing stopping Keith from sliding off the track, and Keith smiled harder.

He really had the best engineer.

Keith raced onto the second straightaway with seconds separating him from the rest, and he only grew that distance as the engine roared louder, speeding up towards the next turn.

* * *

Lance curved his car around another corner onto the longest stretch yet, the straight road almost seeming alive in the midday heat, tarmac looking as liquid as the sea. He geared up until there was nothing left and watched the speedometer climb, letting it hover at the theoretical top speed before giving her just a little more gas, pushing her just a little harder. Lance laughed as the numbers climbed higher than the limited 155mph.

He really had the best engineer.

Lance let himself enjoy the thrill for just a moment longer before gearing down, turning into the next curve, and returning to the winding road he was racing down.

* * *

Keith was taking corners sharper than he had to, being more aggressive than strictly necessary to be for how far ahead he was, and he could hear Shiro's voice in his head scolding him. But nothing seemed to matter anymore. Keith was pushing the limits of the car, pushing himself to drive faster than he had yet, but to no end.

He already knew he was going to win. There wasn't even a competitor in his rearview, he had lost all of them several turns and laps back, the raw speed of his car seemingly unmatched by all but one. One, who was also nowhere to be seen.

Keith was frustrated as he rounded the last corner, barely missing the other wall at the exit of the turn. He heard someone suck in a breath from his earpiece, obviously biting their tongue about his driving. He figured he'd hear about it later anyways.

Keith sped towards the finish line of his final lap.

* * *

Lance's arms were getting tired of the same motions. He was quickly changing the direction of the wheel, pulling at the parking break, releasing it, before cranking the wheel in the opposite directions again. Lance drifted with ease in and out of the turns on the winding road, but he knew he was getting lazy, he almost let his tail end clip the guard rail on the final turn.

He pulled out of the consecutive turns with smoke billowing from the back of his car. If someone didn't know better, they would have thought his car was on fire, not that he had just burned off almost all of the rubber on his rear tires. He'd have to replace them after this.

The finish line was just ahead, the final stretch of road between him and the end of this race, and Lance sped up again. He was going to do this.

* * *

Keith flew across the finish line, knowing the checkered flag had been waved behind him even if he couldn't see it. He slowed the car through the first few corners again, unable to hear the crowds cheers over the roar of his engine, but hearing the pit crew in his ear was more than loud enough.

He drove off the track to pull into the pit, barely parking the car before he was unstrapping himself from the car, removing the wheel from the chassis. Keith had fully removed his helmet and is standing outside the car by the time Shiro had reached him, pulling the younger into a bone crushing hug.

"Good job." Is all Shiro said as he ruffled Keith's hair, only to have his hand swatted away by the younger.

"Where was Rolo?" Keith asks, anger painted the sharp edges of his tine, resulting in an unimpressed look from Shiro. But before the older can respond Pidge was weaselling their way in-between the two, smiling up at Keith.

"Taken out on the third lap," Pidge answers for Shiro, "tried to cut off one of the Redbull racers and slid both of them into the gravel. He's parked in the other garage." They point over their shoulder towards the second garage where Keith can clearly see Rolo casually chatting to the pit staff, the blue part of the bicoloured chassis littered with scratches and dents.

Keith lets out something akin to a growl and starts walking towards the other driver, only to have Shiro's prosthetic hand grab loosely onto his arm. Keith stops in his tracks and turns to glare at the older.

"I know you're angry," Shiro beats Keith to whatever he was going to say, "and I know you think he probably deserves whatever you're going to tell him. But, just for now, tone it down okay? This is the first real race of the season, we really don't need you making your press reputation any worse than it already is."

Keith stared down at his shoes, letting out a deep breath and feeling some of the anger slip from him. Shiro had that effect on people. When he looks back up at the other Keith can say Shiro is probably right, he probably doesn't need to start this argument with Rolo.

But damn if he doesn't want to.

"I'm just gonna tell him to buck up," Keith says, gently removing the plastic fingers from his arm, not missing the way Shiro grimaces at each movement.

"I want to talk to you later about adjustments!" Keith hears Pidge yell from behind him as he stalks towards the garage, and waves a hand over his head in acknowledgement. He's sure he'll be herded into their lab later to play twenty questions about the state of the car today.

Rolo notices Keith approaching and immediately tenses up, quietly ushering the pit staff away, and the look of fear the staff member gives Keith as he walks towards the pair tells him that maybe he looks as angry as he feels. The staff member is gone in a flash, off to pretend to inspect some of the equipment far enough away to be out of Keith's firing rage, but close enough to listen in. Keith can't find it in himself to care.

"Hey Keith!" Roll greets, sounding just the slightest bit cautious. "Congrats on the win."

"No thanks to you," Keith says, stopping just in front of the taller male, having to tilt his head upwards to glare at the other.

Rolo laughs, still trying to play it safe as Keith fumes inches away from him. "You never needed my help anyways."

"Not the point," Keith grits out, taking another step closer into the other's personal space as he jams a finger into Rolo's chest. "What the fuck were you doing back there?"

"Whoa man, chill out," Rolo says, hands raising up in the air in innocence, and he tries to take a step back. "I got off to a bad start, I was just trying to work my way back up."

"We both know you intentionally checked that racer," Keith says vehemently, and the momentary look of guilt on Rolo's face only further enrages Keith. "You need to be racing up at the front with me, not off playing bumper cars with some losers at the back of the pack."

Keith watches the other driver's face harden, realizing that might not have been the right thing to say.

"What's it matter to you? You won anyways, so what I do isn't even your problem," Rolo says, standing up straight so he's looking down on Keith.

It matters because without someone to race against it was boring as shit Keith thinks to himself, but holds his tongue.

"Just get your act together," Keith growls before turning on his heel, walking back towards where he'd left Pidge and Shiro moments before.

"Whatever you say, oh prodigy!" Roll mocks from behind him, and Keith whirls around to settle the other with a glare that would cause a lesser man to wither. But Rolo was nothing if not defiant, so he stares back until Keith eventually decides it's a waste of his time, turning around to return to his pit crew.

He'd let Allura deal with Rolo later.

* * *

Lance rocketed across the spray painted finish line, hearing Hunk shout in his ear but having no clue what he was saying, instead Lance focused on slowing his car down so he could turn her around to pick Hunk up.

"Lance! Lance, oh my god, Lance! You did it!" Lance finally caught through the headset, already driving back towards where Hunk was standing next to a lawn chair on the side of the road.

"Hunk, wait, don't tell me yet. I need to see it. I need to know." Lance yells back, sliding to a stop just before the other, unbuckling from his seat and nearly throwing himself out of the car.

Lance only has a second to breathe before Hunk pulls the other into a hug, picking Lance up and spinning him around a few times for good measure. By the time Lance has both feet back on the ground he's nearly vibrating with excitement, and Hunk's grin is contagious. Both of them are smiling like fools as Hunk hands the tablet over to Lance.

The bright digital numbers stare at Lance like a shining beacon, and the laughter that rips from his throat is exuberant. 9:56.052.

"We did it!" Lance shouted when he finally finished laughing, throwing himself into Hunk's arms again. "We broke ten minutes!"

Hunk was laughing along with Lance as he returned the hug, "A full twenty seconds faster than last time too, Lance you drove so well!"

Lance pulled back with a too large grin on his face, hand still clasped around the tablet with the digital timer, amazed he hadn't squeezed it so hard he cracked the screen.

"Hey, I can't take all the credit here," Lance smirks, nudging the other man with his elbow. "Whatever you did to her engine made her fly. She broke 155."

Lance watched Hunk's face go from an embarrassed blush to keen excitement at that last statement.

"I just removed the limiter!" Hunk explained, moving past Lance to his car, already putting on gloves so he could open the hood, "It really wasn't anything special, all BMW's do it the same, I did it before on your dad's old one for that second car we made. And removing the limiter doesn't even do that much, it can still only go so fast. Plus, if you push her too hard then you could seriously damage the engine, and I was worried you'd hurt yourself, and-"

"Hunk," Lance cuts off the other's rambling, Hunk turning to look at him from inside the hood of his car, "you did great. I love it. And I think this deserves celebration."

"Milkshakes?" Hunk's face lights up, and Lance smiles as he approaches the other, throwing an arm over the broader mans shoulder.

"Sounds great," Lance says, squeezing the others shoulder with a smile before maneuvering himself to the driver-side door. "Milkshakes on me. I'm starving, we just beat our all-time record, and I think we are in desperate need of a sugary reward."

Hunk takes one last look at the engine before closing the hood, grabbing his bag of gadgets with the lawn chair, and sliding into the passenger seat of the two door. He throws his stuff into the too-small backseat, and turns to face Lance as the other starts up the vehicle again.

"So," Hunk says, face serious as Lance starts the car back towards town, albeit much slower than his earlier drive, "Chocolate or vanilla?"

* * *

 **Let me know any thoughts, comments, or critiques! Thanks for reading 'til the end!**

 **~Katz7777777**


	2. Drop the Clutch

"Was the suspension tuned right?" Pidge asked, their question echoing off the metal walls of the silent garage. Keith was seated across from the younger's makeshift desk, papers and small car parts strewn haphazardly around the room, bigger metal components making up the surface Pidge was currently writing upon. Keith hadn't been sure that the small engineers laptop should be so precariously balanced on the metal frame holding it up, but it hadn't fallen yet, so he figured it was fine.

Keith was staring vacantly up at the crossbars of the ceiling like he had been for the past hour of Pidge's questioning when he finally answered.

"Yes," He said, not really paying attention to what was being asked. Keith just wanted to be done.

He had to force himself to stop bouncing his leg a few times, restlessness getting the better of him. Keith was still antsy from the race, given barely an hour between crossing that final line and being dragged back to Pidge's workspace for the interrogation. He was also still angry about Rolo, angry about the bland taste winning had left in his mouth, and Keith needed to move. He needed to drive. He needed to go.

But Pidge insisted on getting every last detail of the race out of him 'before he forgot', so he sat in the chair, tried not to fiddle too much, and waited until he could escape back home.

"Do you think the extra traction control helped speed up the turn entries?" Pidge asked as they scribbled furiously on a notepad, the only sound in the room other than the low humming of the air conditioner. Keith clasped his hands together to stop those from moving too, his mind already on the road back home, thinking of taking the back roads so he could drive as fast as he wanted.

"Yes." Keith said again, imaging the feeling of the wind in his hair as he tore down the one lane roads, swerving around any cars in his way. His mind was lost in grabbing his helmet from the locker room, getting changed out of this racing gear, and slipping back on his leather jacket.

"Are you a dick?" Pidge asks, the scratching of pencil on paper finally stopping.

"Ye-" Keith brings his gaze down from the ceiling, his head down from the clouds, and levels Pidge with a glare. The blank look he receives in return informs him that he probably deserved that one.

"Are we done?" Keith asks instead of saying anything to further aggravate the younger. Pidge just sighs as they place their pencil down, lifting their glasses up to rub at their eyes with the heels of their hands.

"For now," They said, "but I'm going to ask Rolo a few questions about the race as well. And I want to hear from you again tomorrow after you've slept on it."

"He didn't even finish three laps," Keith scoffs, standing up from his chair, finally stretching his legs, "I doubt he could tell you much of anything."

"Better than someone." Pidge mutters, but Keith catches it and casts an unimpressed look at the other. Pidge wouldn't even give his anger the time of day, their shoulders cracking as they stretch their arms above their head, "Keith, I'm trying to build the fastest car. I _am_ going to build the fastest car. But to do that, I need feedback, and right now yours is pretty shit. Besides, I need to know how it drives for everyone, not just your life-threatening style of driving."

Keith signs and looks away from Pidge, feeling somewhat guilty now for only thinking about himself, and ruffles some of the hair on the back of his head.

"I know, sorry Pidge." He offers, still not looking at the other.

Pidge lets out a light laugh before Keith can hear the fluttering of paper again, their pencil scratching in the notebook again.

"Now," They said, and Keith glanced over to see the slight smile the other offered him, "get out of here, all your jittering is making me anxious."

Keith offered a small smile of his own, nodding to the other before slipping out of the room, walking quickly towards the locker room. He was so close.

Keith heard his name being called from behind him, and resisted the urge to groan at yet another delay, stopping in his tracks and turning around.

"Allura," Keith said in greeting to the woman walking briskly down the hallway to meet him, smiling as she approached him.

"Keith," She replied, smiling as she placed a light hand on his shoulder, "Congratulations on your win today."

"Oh, thanks," Keith said, still somewhat awkward about praise from his employer, but he tried to smile for her as she removed her hand, instead clasping it in front of her.

"I also wanted to remind you of the meeting tomorrow morning, 10am sharp, to go over the details of the race and how we should proceed with the next few before qualifiers. All five of us should be there."

Keith nods, thinking that he'll probably need to set an alarm for tomorrow morning, when something clicks.

"Only five of us? Who's missing?" Keith asks.

"Oh, you didn't know? Coran is still in California."

* * *

Lance pulled into his family's driveway with his wallet a touch lighter than it had been an hour prior, but there were no regrets, the milkshakes had been worth it. Lance had spent the entire drive back with Hunk raving to him about the modifications to his car, how smoothly she shifted gears, how easily she pushed the top speed. He wasn't sure Hunk was ever going to lose the proud flush he had on as they drove back, asking Lance for his opinion on other changes he was hoping to make, not even needing to finish his explanation before Lance was fully on board.

And Hunk deserved that. He was such an amazing engineer, dealing with all of Lance's whimsical ideas which may or may not have included fire boosters a few times. Lance really couldn't thank Hunk enough.

But before Lance could bestow any more of his love upon his best friend, Hunk had to head home. Hunk had an astrophysics midterm in the morning, and as much as Lance loved the other, he knew how the engineer got when he was stressed. Lance had dropped Hunk off and driven the rest of the way home much faster than his motion-sickness prone friend would have appreciated, still jittering.

He had done it. He'd finally broken the ten minute mark that he'd set as his goals over a year ago. Lance could feel it, could feel himself getting better, could feel the endless hours of training on the circuit paying off.

Lance unbuckled himself and turned off the car, but had to pause for a moment when the sound of a rumbling engine didn't stop. He stared at the dashboard, all lights off, before he realized that the sound wasn't coming from his car.

It was coming from the car behind him.

Lance steps out of the vehicle, closing the door behind him as he turned around, staring at the car that had pulled in behind him. The car still rumbling on his driveway is bright orange, specifically the 'Fire Orange' of a 2013 M3, and Lance feels himself gaping at the impossible car. The driver cuts the engine, causing Lance to snap his jaw shut as he watched the mysterious stranger.

The man that stepped out of the older BMW had hair even brighter than his car, his orange moustache curled up at the ends in a way that Lance didn't even think possible. The stranger steps out from around his car door, practically bouncing his way over to Lance, and Lance can't stop himself.

"Is that the Lime Rock Park edition?" Lance blurts, knowing he probably looked as much a fanboy as he felt. The smile the man gives Lance makes his moustache curl up impossibly higher, and Lance wonders what kind of styling gel he used.

"Well don't you have a keen eye!" The stranger says with an accent Lance can't quite place, stopping just in front of the younger, but still seeming to bounce in place.

"Only 200 of those were even made!" Lance gapes, leaning to peer past the man at the car.

"Yup!" And somehow the man sounds even more excited about this fact than Lance, "Allura just bought it for Altea, this is it's test drive weekend."

Lance missed most of his statement, still fixated on the limited edition car parked on his driveway.

"Allura?" He asks.

"Oh my, I haven't introduced myself have I," The stranger exclaims, and straightens up when Lance nods at him, finally tearing his eyes away from the orange paint job, "My name is Coran."

Coran reaches into his back pocket to pull out a slip of paper that Lance assumes is his business card.

"I'm Lance," He says, accepting the card from the other.

If Lance was gaping before, it's nothing compared to how shellshocked he felt at the company name written in elegant cursive at the top of the card. Lance was starstruck as he read the Altea business card, Coran's name in bold black letters followed by his management title.

"Altea Constructors?! As in the reigning champions of the Formula 1 races? The designers of the dual powered electric racing engine? The constructor for Takashi Shirogane the five time world champion?" Lance was practically shouting at Coran by the end of it, but there was no way the most prestigious American F1 constructor company had sent a man to his house, parked on his driveway.

"Yup! That's the one." Coran smiled, clapping his hands together, "We also just had our lead engineer submit a design that should improve the top wind speed of any chassis, we already had a few trial runs, and it looks like we'll be another ringer for this year's final!"

"Coran, my man. This is like super cool and all, and I'm super stoked that you're here," Lance says, smiling harder than before as he tilted his head to the side, "But why are you here? I mean, in Los Angeles of all places because I though Altea operated out of Texas, but also why are you _here_ , on my family's driveway?"

If Lance thought Coran's smile couldn't get any brighter he was proven incorrect with a twitch of a moustache.

"That, my boy," Coran mimics and Lance laughs, "Is because of your driving this afternoon."

"You saw that?!" Lance exclaims, knowing that it was a pretty open area, but no one ever came by that way.

"I sure did! And what a sight it was to see," Coran smiled, looking almost nostalgic.

"Ah, it was pretty great," Lance said, smirking just a little to cover up the flush he felt climbing up his neck, "But I'm sure you've seen better, I mean, you work with some of the best drivers in the world."

"Only the best," Coran said, smiling, and placed a hand on Lance's shoulder, "And I wan't you to join them, if you can that is."

"Me!?" This time Lance was pretty sure he was going to faint. An employee of the best F1 constructor was asking him, Lance, to join their company. To be a driver for their cars. There had to be some kind of mistake.

"Coran, I'm really flattered and all, but I don't think you have the right guy. I mean, I'll admit I was pretty epic on that hill, but there are hundreds of racers in California. And there are so many that are better than me, I mean I get beat on the track all the time." Lance starts to ramble, overwhelmed, "I don't even have my super license, I'm really new at racing, I've only completed in a few small events before, and I didn't even win those. And I didn't even do that with the car on it's own, I have Hunk make modifications, and he's really the only reason I could beat ten minutes on that run, because-"

"Lance," Coran cuts him off and Lance snaps his jaw shut, "Can I tell you why I was in California?"

Lance slowly nods his head, still overflowing with too many thoughts to just think.

"Allura, she's the director of Altea, sent me here to find some new recruits," Coran said, smiling softly down at Lance, "I've been at the tracks every day, watching other drivers like yourself, trying to find someone to bring in. And I don't think I've seen such horrendous driving in my life."

Lance laughs at the face the other pulls.

"You'd think they were _trying_ to hit the other cars!" Corn said, shaking his head, "I was actually on my way back to the airport when I saw you driving. Your form could use a little work, your drift gets a little wobbly at times, but it was some of the best driving I've seen in years. You have talent Lance."

To say Lance felt warm all over would be an under exaggeration, he was practically on fire, a flush running up his cheeks.

"Oh." Was all Lance could say, too stunned for words.

"Well, you don't need to make a decision right away!" Coran said, Lance was starting to be certain the Coran's smile never left his face, "But if you want to give it a try, you can call me with that number on the back of the card."

Lance flips over the business card he'd forgotten was in his hand, and reads the number scribbled on the back, barely legible.

"Also, you mentioned you had a mechanic? Would you mind if I looked at your car?" Coran seemed to be vibrating with excitement again, and Lance just nodded, stepping out of the way as the other popped the hood and whistled lowly.

A few snaps of a phone camera and Coran was closing the hood, turning back to Lance who still hadn't spoken since Coran had broken his rambling.

"I hope you don't mind if I take these photos back to our lead engineer just for a second opinion, but I think it's safe to say that if your mechanic wanted to join us as well, we would be honoured to have him." Coran smiles, reaching a hand out to shake with Lance's, "I hope to hear from you soon Lance."

Lance shakes the older man's hand, brain still whirling with information as the other heads back to their car, starts up the roaring engine, and takes off down the street, leaving a flabbergasted Lance standing in the middle of his family driveway.

* * *

 **Let me know any thoughts, comments, or critiques! Thanks for reading 'til the end!**

 **~Katz7777777**


	3. Gearing Down

Keith walked into Altea the next morning with his helmet tucked under his arm, feeling substantially better than he had the day before. The memory of the race was still fresh in his mind, the anger still simmering just below the surface, but a few long drives had calmed him enough to realize that he may have overreacted.

Rolo had thrown the race, that much Keith was certain of. But it wasn't Rolo's fault Keith was bored. Even if they both had what was essentially the same car, it didn't mean that others shouldn't have been able to keep up, it didn't mean that the fourteen other racers shouldn't have been able to give Keith a run for his money. To some extent, Keith realized he was taking his anger out on Rolo, but that didn't make him any less frustrated.

Keith tucked his gear into the lockers at the entrance, refusing to even try to tame his hair, settling on the hair elastic strapped around his wrist instead. He slipped out of the changing room, his phone telling him he had just two minutes to skip up the stairs to the only room on the second floor of the building.

He took the stairs two at a time, sliding into the meeting room, settling himself into his seat on Shiro's left. Shiro cast him a smile in acknowledgement, and Keith could see the dark circles painted on his face, letting Keith know the other was just as tired as he was. Keith almost wished he'd thought ahead to bring Shiro some coffee.

If he was daring he could steal some from Pidge, who was bound to arrive at least five minutes late with an assortment of caffeine, something expected in any meeting hosted before midday. But Pidge was defensive about their coffee, and the last time he'd tried, he'd nearly lost a hand to the small engineer.

From where Allura sat at the head of the table, bent over her laptop as she typed furiously, she looked as impeccable as ever. Not even running a full constructor business could throw her off her game, and Keith would be impressed if he wasn't so bitter about her habit of scheduling early morning meetings. She and Coran were the only morning people in the company. The seat on her right was empty today, Coran still away on his trip, and Keith silently wondered about his arrival.

Rolo was the next person to arrive, and Keith tried to resist the urge to cast him a displeased look, which failed given the sharp elbow he received from Shiro moments after. Rolo seated himself as far from Keith as possible, which Keith thought was probably a good idea, and immediately pulled out his phone.

Shiro, trying to dispel the tension in the room, started up a brief discussion with Allura about their budgeting for next month, and what the practice schedule was going to look like. Keith tried to listen along, but his mind kept drifting away, the lack of sleep taking it's toll as the morning hours ticked on.

Keith let his eyes slide shut as he folded his arms on the table, resting his chin upon them.

A few minutes later, when Keith was seconds away from nodding off, Pidge arrived at the meeting room looking like the living dead. They dragged themselves to the seat opposite Keith, haphazardly sliding a coffee over to Shiro, which he accepted with a gracious nod. Keith stared at the two of them, incredulous, and Shiro just smirked while Pidge picked up their own cup, downing the entire drink.

"Alright, let's get this going." They said, slamming the cup back down on the table. "I'm working on 3 hours of sleep, and when this is over I'm going right home, back to sleep for the next eternity."

Allura smiled amused at Pidge and cleared her throat, calling the small room to attention. Keith sat up, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes.

"First, I'd like to thank everyone for coming. I've called you all here to discuss the upcoming races, as well as a few other matters that seem to have come to my attention." The pointed look at Keith wasn't missed by anyone in the room. "But I'll start with the biggest news.

"As some of you may know, Coran has been travelling in California, specifically visiting some of the circuits that are open in the area. I've sent him there with the hopes of him managing to recruit a few more promising drivers."

Keith felt himself frown at the new information, and a quick glance around the room tells him that he's the only one, Shiro nodding along while Rolo continued to stare down at his phone. Before Keith can get a word out Allura had already continued on, trying to dispel any concerns.

"This is not because we don't believe in the drivers we already have, we know you two are the best of the best." Allura looks between Keith and Rolo, smiling briefly. "But only having two racers in a top tier company isn't enough.

"Coran, Shiro, and I are all in agreement that it would be more beneficial for Pidge to have another test driver, especially when it would mean not having to pull the two of you from practice. I also believe that if anything were to happen, I would rather have a back up driver than simply be down to one cart racing. We aren't looking for your replacements, we are hoping to bring more talent into the team, and hopefully keep pushing our company forward." Allura ended with a calm smile, and glanced around the table. When it seemed like there were no comments, she clasped her hands in front of her.

"Wonderful." She said. "Now, the next topic. While we've been on a very clear winning streak with the formula one races, and Pidge's designs are winning more awards than ever, I think as a company we need to branch out a little further.

"I've discussed it with Coran, but I wanted your input on the matter as well, would either of you feel comfortable competing in other races?" Allura asked, directing the question to both Rolo and Keith.

"I don't really know what other ones I would want to compete in just yet, but I can look into it for you." Rolo says, head still stuck in his phone.

"That's fair Rolo." Allura says, a slight frown pulling the corner of her lips down. "Keith?"

"As long as it's racing, I don't care." Keith said, and turned to look at Shiro when he barked a laugh.

"You don't change at all, do you." Shiro smiled, clasping a hand on Keith's shoulder, practically beaming at him which was causing Keith to flush slightly.

"I'm glad to hear that Keith." Allura said smiling, pulling Keith's attention back to her. "Let me know if there's anything in particular you want to do."

Keith just nodded at her, letting Shiro's hand slide off of him.

"Now," Allura starts, and Keith knows that tone, knows it's the tone that mean's he's fucked up and she has to use her 'boss' voice on him, "about your behaviour after last race."

Keith felt a flush of embarrassment race up his neck. He knew he had been brash, that he should have waited until they were out of the public eye to confront Rolo. But he also knew he'd been so angry. Keith figured the tabloids had a field day with his slip up, his social media feeds were already blowing up with images and videos of his finger pressed menacingly into Rolo's chest.

Keith opened his mouth, and apology on the tip of his tongue, when suddenly the meeting room door was slammed open, and someone was tumbling through it. Keith's head spun with everyone else's, turning around to see Coran panting as though he'd just run all the way here from the airport. Though considering Coran, that wasn't totally implausible.

"Oh, good, I've made it in time!" He said from where he'd almost careened into the table, standing up and straightening himself out before practically skipping over to Allura's side.

"Coran! Welcome back." Allura said, smiling as she pulled the older man into an embrace, "It's good to see you. How was your trip?"

"Oh just the best!" Coran smiles pulling back from their hug. "The beaches there we just divine, the soft sand between your toes, the sun high in the sky, the ocean was so blue-"

"What about the drivers?" Allure cuts him off, still smiling, masterfully rerouting Coran's rambles. Keith is forever jealous of that ability.

Keith sees something glint in Coran's eye, the same kind of glint Pidge got when they were about to pull something, and sits up a little straighter. Coran pulls out his phone and types in a few things before smiling at whatever it is he's found.

"I think I have something you'll want to see." He says, grabbing the remote to turn on the projector, quickly hooking up his phone.

A slightly grainy image of what Keith thinks is a hill comes into view, a light coloured road winding down the mountain, a few pixels of colour sitting in the upper right contrasting against the lush green of grass that covered the ground.

"This," Coran states proudly, almost puffing out his chest with pride, "is Lance."

Coran pressed play and the camera zoomed in, losing focus of the road for a few seconds, before it was refocused on a bright blue car that was flying down the mountain road, dust billowing up behind them. Whoever they were, they were driving much faster than any sane person should be towards the turn that was coming up.

Keith started wondering if Coran had picked the wrong video and was about to show them a car crash instead of a racer, especially when the driver just _wasn't_ slowing down for the turn, seeming to almost accelerate towards what Keith figured was their impending doom. But then the car was braking, smoke flying from behind the back wheels, and it was drifting around the corner with an accuracy Keith had only seen in national competitions.

Keith let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and Shiro whistled low at the video when the driver proceeded to make not two, not three, but four consecutive drifting turns following the first. The car slipped onto another brief section of flat road, once again accelerating insanely fast, and decelerating at the last moment before they cut into the next set of twists in the road.

For the first time in a long while, Keith felt enraptured. The driver was obviously skilled, definitely risky, but apparently with the talent to back it up. The blue car rockets down the long bit of straight road, and Keith thinks about how he would have cut that corner a little tighter, used the traction to take off a little faster, floored it a little sooner. Before he's even realized it, he's leaning towards the video to get a better look.

The turns are sloppier after the straightaway, Keith barely suppressing a gasp when the driver looked like they were going to go over the edge more than once, surprised the tail end of their car wasn't sparking against the metal guard.

Keith got a quick glance at a person standing at what looked to be a painted finish line, their figure in the frame for no more than a millisecond as the camera followed the driver, the car slowly pulling to a stop as they turned it back around. They pulled up to the man in the bright yellow shirt, seeming to be jumping in place, shouting about something the camera couldn't pick up from so far away. Keith gets a momentary glimpse of brown hair and sun kissed skin as the driver steps out of the car, and then the video cuts out.

"Impressive." Shiro said, leaning forward onto the table, still staring at the screen as he voiced the opinion of everyone in the room.

"Yeah." Keith muttered, causing Pidge to glance over at him and give him a curious look. "They could cut in on the corners a little more, and they were getting pretty sloppy by the end, but they have some amazing control over their car."

"You wouldn't be Keith if you didn't critique someone else's driving. Even if it was during a compliment." Pidge laughed, the first thing they'd said since downing their coffee earlier.

"That's wonderful Coran!" Allura said before Keith could come up with a snarky reply for Pidge. "When will they be joining us?"

"Well, I'm not entirely sure." Corn says, frowning down at his phone before looking back at Allura. "He's not exactly a professional driver, so he has quite a few things to sort out before he could even race here."

"What!?" Keith practically shouts, and Shiro winces next to him, "How is he not a pro? No one just _knows_ how to drive a car like that."

"Self taught." Coran says, the prideful smile back on his face. "He told me he's been training on those roads for years now, didn't really have the money to find himself a driving instructor. Or the luck."

Keith flushes slightly as he glances at Shiro, knowing the implications of that statement.

"I still think it would be worth bringing him on." Coran continues, "I think with some professional training and a real coach, we could bring him up to speed in no time, especially if he's already got the basics."

"If that's what you feel Coran," Allura says, glancing at Shiro who is nodding, smiling enthusiastically, "then I believe in your judgement."

Coran's smile grows wider, if that was even possible, before he starts flipping through some more photos on his phone.

"He also said he had a mechanic, I think he was the other man in the video, but I took some photos of the engine just to see what he'd done. I think you're going to like this Pidge." Corn says.

Pidge glances up from where they'd lost themselves in their daydreams, the coffee still working it's way through their system, and fixes their gaze on the photo Coran's displayed on the screen. Keith can't tell much about what's going on, it looks like an engine to him, but based on the way Pidge sits up straighter tells him that they've definitely done something interesting.

A few seconds of glancing over it had Pidge suddenly standing up from their chair, startling most of the room, and approaching the projected image. Keith could see them muttering something under their breath, and he could practically hear the gears grinding in their head.

"Coran, do you have another angle of this?" Pidge asked, still not looking away from the picture. "Possibly from more to the right?"

Yup!" Coran smiled, watching Pidge investigate the image thats significance was lost on Keith. As much as he liked driving, many of the inner workings were still very black box, especially with some of the complex changes Pidge was usually working on.

"Stop. There." Pidge said, stopping Coran from flipping through any further photos.

After a few more moments, Pidge turned away from the screen, and stared at the rest of this room.

"You need to get this Lance person onto the team, we need more drivers," Pidge started, quickly glancing back at the image, "and I need to talk to this engineer."

Coran just smiled and nodded as Pidge went to go pick up their empty coffee cup, still looking like they did when they were mulling over a design in their head, before looking to Allura. Pidge didn't even need to say anything before Allura was nodding, the shorter speed walking out of the room, most likely heading to their lab.

"I think that's enough for today, we can reconvene at a later date to discuss more about other races and bringing in some new team members." Allure said, seating herself back into her chair.

Rolo was out of his seat before Allura even finished her sentence, eyes still fixated on his phone as he walked towards the door, and Keith cast him a weak glare. Shiro stayed seated, Keith figuring he has something to discuss with Allura still, so he moved to stand as well, hoping to take a quick ride home and catch up on several hours of lost sleep.

"Keith," Shiro's voice cut him off, and Keith glanced at Shiro first, followed by Allura's sympathetic but unimpressed look, and finally to Coran who was still smiling down at the image on his phone, "I think we still have something to discuss."

Keith sighed as he sat back down, preparing himself for the inevitable lecture.

He guesses he can't always be lucky.

* * *

 **Let me know any thoughts, comments, or critiques! Thanks for reading 'til the end!**

 **~Katz7777777**


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